


The Cat on the Pianoforte (Part Two)

by gingersnapper



Series: The Cat on the Pianoforte [2]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Chronic Illness, Drama, F/M, Historical, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingersnapper/pseuds/gingersnapper
Summary: Young Catherine Bennet, now Catherine Fitzwilliam, is gravely ill with the consumption and it is up to her new husband, the Colonel, to do all he can to get her cured. The illness and the slow recovery puts strains on the new marriage of Catherine and the Colonel, and the Colonel contemplates the pros and cons of having a wife significantly younger than him. The marriages of the rest of the Bennet sisters, as well as the Fitzwilliams, also come under strain when Mr. Bennet becomes and succumbs to the consumption, leaving Mrs. Bennet without a home. As Catherine recovers and the Bennet sisters begin having families of their own, can they manage each other and their mother?





	1. 12 April 1814

**Author's Note:**

> This part is told primarily from the Colonel's point of view, however, it is likely to feature points of view from other characters, much like Part One.

_Tuesday, 12 April 1814_

_To myself,_

_This very morning, my dearest Catherine and I joined in a holy union beneath the eyes of God, although to the grand nation of England, of the United Kingdom, we have legally married and become Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam, viscount and viscountess of Matlock. I enjoy the privilege now of sharing a bedchamber with my Catherine and have become very much aware to her now nightly routine of vigorous coughing. I had asked for a pot of boiling hot water for her with salt in it in hopes of clearing her throat. It helped enough to enable her to sleep, and consummation of our marriage will not be happening until she is well._  

_The wedding was small and private, with only the guests of Longbourn present. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were in London and did not attend, but Mr. and Mrs. Edward and Mary Casey were in attendance, as were Mr. and Mrs. George and Lydia Wickham, much to my Catherine’s dismay. Mr. John Fairfax was in attendance, along with dear Georgiana, as were Mr. and Mrs. Bennet. My Catherine wore that beautiful deep royal blue dress with a white ribbon in her hair, of which she later told me in private that her mother wished she had not worn. I thought she looked positively beautiful, as I adore the dress, and because she is my beautiful Catherine. We will stay another day before we depart for my mother’s childhood home in Clitheroe in Lancashire, a home that I had grown up in, and a home where many of the brothers and sisters between myself and Timothy and Lucy had lived and died. It was the home where Timothy was staying during his own illness with Madge, so its quiet activity will do well for my Catherine during her illness._

_Mama and Father are away in Matlock, but Mama plans on coming to the Clitheroe estate to assist me in caring for Catherine until I hear word from the Sanatorium. I asked in my letter that they write to the Clitheroe estate if they have a room for Catherine and sent the letter on express. As much as I would hate uprooting her so soon after our marriage and so early into her illness, I feel it is best if the news arrives. Even if the sanitorium does not have room for her, at least she will be someplace quiet and calm, as Clitheroe is a very peaceful village._

_I must close up this entry now, and join my wife in slumber. I wish to stay by her side in case her illness worsens in the night._

_Yours,_

_Colonel R. Fitzwilliam_


	2. 14 April 1914

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and the Colonel begin their journey to Clitheroe and while on the journey, a secret Catherine holds peeks out at her new husband before hiding away again, leaving him wondering exactly what had happened to her.

_ Thursday, 14 April 1814 _

_ To myself, _

_ On this day, we departed from Longbourn for Clitheroe and have stopped for the evening in Hardingstone, in Northampton. I arranged the best of carriages that I possibly could for my Catherine in regards to space and comfort, but I know that it will never be as good as a warm and comfortable bed. When we left this morning, it was hard for Catherine to say goodbye to her family, as she had never in her nineteen years been apart from any member of her family for an extended period of time... _

* * *

I stood aside as Catherine said her farewells to her mother and father and to her two sisters, whom she had grown used to being away from. I suppose she feared that she was saying goodbye for the final time, although a small part of me knew that this wouldn’t be the last time she’d see them. But it was when she said goodbye to one of her brother-in-laws, Mr. George Wickham. Mr. Edward Casey was cheerful in his farewell to her and wished her the best, swearing to write a composition in her name and honour, but Mr. Wickham, whom I have had the misfortune of knowing far too long, looked at her with a lustful reproach. I had known him when he had attempted to elope with Georgiana a few years before, but his interaction with Catherine was very much unexpected.

“Farewell to you, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, hopefully not for the last time, yes?” he’d said to her.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be,” Catherine replied meekly, not meeting his eyes. It was very uncharacteristic for her and not at all a way my Catherine would behave.

“Come and give your dear brother a hug, won’t you?” he said with a smirk, and Catherine took a step back from him.

“I wouldn’t wish to risk you catching ill,” she said, rather monotone. My Catherine’s tone of voice was always colourful but this tone was rather grey.

“My dear sister, come and give us a hug-” He took hold of her wrist and she recoiled away, her eyes widened in fear, and I stepped from the shadows and took my Catherine’s shoulders in my hands.

“George, do let her be. She isn’t well,” I said as politely as I could, and Wickham took a step back. I hated that this man was now my brother by marriage, but it couldn’t be helped, for I loved my Catherine and married her family as well as her.

“Very well, then,” he said coldly. “Here’s to hoping she makes it, then, yes?”

“Indeed,” I replied. “Come, my love, and let us set on our way. We’ve a long journey ahead of us.”

“How far is Clitheroe from here?” she asked me as I led her away from Wickham.

“About three days by carriage. No fear, my dear, for we shall be there in no time. I expect you to get plenty of rest as we journey there,” I told her.

“I plan on sketching the countryside. It will keep my restless mind at ease,” she said to me.

“Catherine, your hand will only slip. The path is not a smooth one-”

“It will add to my style, then, won’t it?” She turned to her mother and father one final time. “Be sure to write to me. I will write as often as I can. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

“You will do as you’re told and listen to your husband when he tells you to rest,” said Mr. Bennet. “He is wise and you are in good hands. You ought to recover quickly in his care.”

“Papa! I will of course rest plenty, but that does not mean that I can’t be updated on the family affairs! I want to know how my lovely niece is doing and Lizzy, as well, and I will be very upset if I am not told when Jane’s baby is born!” Catherine cried with a smile.

“I will of course write to you, dear, when beautiful Jane has her child!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, then she turned to me. “Now, you take good care of my daughter. If she gets any worse, you will have me to deal with!” I chuckled lightly and smiled warmly at her.

“You’ve nothing to worry about, Mrs. Bennet. My dear mother will also be tending to her at our estate in Clitheroe and she had attended to Catherine during her illness this past winter. She will be in very good hands,” I assured her. We said another round of farewells before I assisted Catherine in climbing into the carriage, and I followed shortly after. I made sure that Catherine was well situated before I signaled the driver that we were ready for our journey, and we set off. As our carriage bumped along, I closed the curtains over the windows to allow my Catherine some privacy. “You ought to try resting your eyes,” I told her, but she shook her head.

“I could never sleep in a moving carriage. Even attempting to makes me sick to my stomach,” she replied.

“I see...” I paused a moment. “How does it feel, now, to be Mrs. Catherine Fitzwilliam?”

“Positively wonderful! I just wish I wasn’t feeling so poor. I can’t enjoy it, and neither can you.”

“If you are referring to our not consummating our marriage last night, then Catherine, allow me to assure you that I do not need intercourse from you to be happy with you. I am just as happy being married to you.” She smiled slightly, her cheeks turning a pale shade of rose.

“I’m glad to hear of it,” she said, and she sat up and reached for my hand across the carriage.

“Catherine, lie down, please-”

“Can we not enjoy this moment together? I fear that we may not have the chance to again.”

“My love, have faith-”

“I don’t wish to discuss my lack of faith in myself, Richard. I wish to spend this moment with you in your arms, while I am well enough. I understand you wish to care for me as best as you can, but do stop being my physician for five minutes and be my husband instead.”

“As your husband, it is my job to-”

“Then be my lover. Encase me in those strong arms of yours and keep me there until I desire to wiggle free.” I smiled gently at her and gave her a happy sigh.

“Very well, then. You’ve won me over with your elegant charm.” I reached over and lifted her from her seat, sitting down on the opposite side with her seated in my lap. She purred ever so softly like a kitten as I pressed my head against hers. “You sound like a very happy kitten.” She scoffed.

“Please, my Richard, don’t ever remind me of that terrible nickname again,” she said, and I chuckled. “And don’t laugh at me, either!”

“I promise you, my love, I am not laughing at you. Your very quirky personality amuses me so and reminds me every day of why I fell in love with you.”

“You must really like bizarre things, then, if you are attached to my personality.”

“I do. I rather enjoyed my time in the militia, seeing bizarre new places with bizarre new things to try out. I learned of many bizarre new cultures and tried many bizarre new foods and I suppose that interest stuck with me. I needed a bizarre new personality to tie myself to and I found you, my bizarre new girl.”

“You intrigue me, Richard, for I cannot help but to love you more and more each day.” I pressed my lips to the top of her head before I went to steal a kiss from her lips; she turned her head.

“Catherine-”

“I don’t wish to get you sick, too, Richard. Only one of us can be ill, but not both. It will be so taxing on your dear mother.”

“She’s cared for me through many a childhood illness. All I want from you is a small kiss-”

“No! You needn’t get ill, too! I need your strength, as you’ve said so many times before. Please, Richard, I don’t wish to take the risk.” I let out a defeated sigh.

“Very well, my dear. If it pleases you, then I shall heed your request. Are you hungry?”

“If I eat, I shall regurgitate the contents of my stomach all over this carriage and most likely you.” I couldn’t help but laugh, in love with her very interesting choice of words.

“All right, my dearest love.” I held her in silence for a little while longer, stroking her beautiful brown hair and gazing into her beautiful blue eyes when I recalled her interactions with Wickham before we left. “Catherine, what happened between yourself and Mr. Wickham?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked me, slightly surprised.

“I am a rather intuitive and observant man - not much escapes my eye. Early, when you were saying farewell to your family, you recoiled from Mr. Wickham as if in terror. Being your concerned husband, I cannot help but wonder-”

“Nothing.” She sat up and crawled to the other side of the carriage, leaving my lap bare.

“Catherine-”

“Don’t question me about it, Richard. I don’t wish to give you answers.” I paused for a moment, wondering what on earth that snake of a man could have done to elicit such a harsh response from my sweet Catherine. My mind went wild with ideas, but one stuck out in my mind that angered me to even be aware of the existence of, let alone think of.

“What did that man do to you,” I whispered to her. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”

“I won’t answer you, Richard.”

“What was it that he did? Did he insult you? Or was it far worse? Did he hit you? Did he push you down the stairs? Did he-” I paused, not even able to allow the words to pass through my lips. “Did he... have his way with you...”

“I told you, Richard, I will not answer you.” She must have seen the fear and worry in my eyes, for she then next said, “I am still in possession of my maidenhead. That you don’t have to worry about.” I let out a sigh of relief; I would not be spending the first few years of our marriage behind bars for murder.

“Rest, Catherine. You’ve had a very taxing few days. You must be tired.” She complied, finally, and she lay down on the padded bench. I sat there in silence across from her while her gaze remained at the floor, my eyes darting between her and the countryside behind the crack in the curtains.

* * *

_ My mind goes wild with thoughts of what that wretched man did to my Catherine. I believe her when she declares that she is still in possession of her maidenhead, but I am not sure I trust her word when she declares that nothing happened. Whatever he did to her, he had better hope that I never find out about it, or perhaps he will not see another day. _

_ I must turn in now, for my Catherine is calling for me. Though I angered her earlier in the day, she does not like falling asleep without me by her side. I will hold her close to me and forever protect her from the villainy of that wretched man, as well as from the wretched disease that ails her. _

_ Yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _


	3. 16 - 23 April 1814

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and the Colonel arrive at Westfield, the Clitheroe estate's name, and are greeted by Lady Matlock. There, Catherine receives her first insults from Lady Catherine de Burgh as the Colonel's wife in the form of a letter to her husband. The Colonel receives a letter from the sanatorium.

_ Saturday, 16 April 1814 _

_ To myself, _

_ We arrived rather late in the afternoon, as a storm delayed us, and my Catherine’s condition is not improving. Her coughing fits are more frequent and I gave her a handkerchief, only to have it returned to me the colour of a bright red poppy. It pains me to see my love so ill, and her interactions with Mr. Wickham continue to irk me further. The wondering is beginning to eat away at me and I fear I must distract myself, or I will pester her further about it. _

_ It is wonderful to be at Westfield again. When my Catherine asked me what the name of our Clitheroe estate was called, hearing its name confused her. ‘What is the meaning behind it?’ she asked me, and I informed her that it had been the surname of my great-great grandmother, whom had been much loved by my great-great grandfather, so much so that he named the estate that he had built for her after her. It’s full name is Sophia Charlotte Caroline Westfield, but we have all shortened it to Westfield. _

_ Mama had arrived only the night before, as our Matlock estate is only a day's’ carriage ride away... _

* * *

“My sweet daughter, how wonderful to have you here in our home!” Mama said lovingly to my Catherine. “You poor thing, your colour has drained from your face. I will place you in the most comfortable bed I can possibly find here at Westfield!”

“Mama, but that bed would be yours,” I said to her. “My Catherine and I cannot possibly take your bedchamber.”

“Nonsense, I won’t hear of it, Richard! This home will someday belong to you, and it is about time you came into possession of the master bedchamber! After all, it is the only bedchamber connected to my bedchamber, where I will only allow my sweet daughter to sleep while she recovers.”

“Lady Matlock, you’re being so generous,” said Catherine breathlessly, her arm in my mother’s hands and my hand on her lower back.

“Formalities such as that are no longer necessary, my dear. You are my daughter now, through your marriage to my son,” said Mama, but I could sense Catherine’s discomfort.

“Mama, Catherine is tired. She must rest,” I said; one look at my Catherine suggested that she was not going to protest, as she usually did when I recommended rest.

“Of course. The bed should already be made. It is waiting ever so anxiously for its occupant! I must see that a fire is started in the room and that our dearest Catherine has hot coals beneath her bed. Rest easy, my dear, and I shall bring you some broth later,” said Mama, and she bestowed a kiss on Catherine’s brow before attending to her business.

“Are we truly going to sleep in separate bedchambers?” asked Catherine weakly once we were alone.

“Absolutely not. If you think I can part from your side even for a moment, after all we have been through, then your illness is making you insane,” I replied, lifting her in my arms and carrying her up the wooden stairs.

“Westfield is quite beautiful,” Catherine said as I carried her down the upstairs corridor.

“Yes, this is a very historic home. Queen Anne stayed here once, a long time ago. In the very room that you will be staying in.”

“Truly?” I nodded. “I’ve always admired Queen Anne. She was so brave, taking on the throne after losing so much. And she did it brilliantly! I dream of meeting her.”

“Hopefully, you won’t be meeting her anytime soon, my love.” The door to the bedchamber that had once been my mother’s, but would now be my Catherine’s, was already open, and I carried her in and set her on the bed. “You will never want of love beneath this roof, my Catherine. Beneath this roof, you are the queen of this estate and I assure you, you will always be cared for. Whomever you call for, whether it be me or Mama, we will always come to your side no matter how far away we are.”

“You don’t have to reassure me of anything, Richard. I’ve already deduced that from the kindness you and your mother have shown me.” I smiled warmly at her, which she returned, and I pressed my lips to her brow the moment my mother entered the room.

“Richard, you have many letters here for you, one from your Aunt,” she said, handing me the letters.

“Lord, help my soul,” I replied as I took them.

“You don’t think she’ll be upset with your marriage, do you?”

“Mama, this is Lady Catherine we are speaking of. She irritated Darcy to no end about his marriage to Mrs. Darcy and I am certain she will hound me about my match as well.” I flipped through the envelopes. “Nothing yet from the sanitorium?”

“Richard, it was only sent on Tuesday. It likely isn’t to arrive until Tuesday next, maybe not even Wednesday,” Catherine chirped from the bed.

“A man can hope, can he not?” I let out a sigh. “Thank you, Mama, I will read these in due time.” I kissed her brown and embraced her, feeling her hand in my hair.

“I will go and write to your father about your arrival. Do you need anything else, my son?” Mama asked me once we had parted.

“Only our things brought up from the carriage,” I replied.

“I will arrange it,” she said, and she left us. I looked back down at the letters in my hand and sat on the end of the bed, my Catherine wrapping her arms around me.

“Your aunt does not approve of our marriage?” she asked me.

“My aunt, the Lady Catherine de Burgh, is a very prude woman who only mingles with high society, save for a few lucky parishioners who abide to her every wish. She treats them like slaves and rewards them with funds when they do something for her,” I replied.

“Is this the woman that terrorised Lizzy when she and Mr. Darcy were married?”

“Indeed she is, and I am very pleased that she has not written to you. She likely wrote this before our marriage, or as soon as it was printed in the papers. She has spies everywhere, I’d swear on it.”

“Why don’t you read it, then, Richard?”

“Because I do not wish to distress you, my love. You are not well and the nastiness of this letter might upset you.”

“My Richard, you know me. I can handle a scathing letter from a miserable old goat just as well as I can handle an illness.” I smiled at her comment, then glanced at her over my shoulder.

“That you can, my strong girl.” I kissed her cheek, then set the other letters aside and opened the one from my aunt.

“ _ Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam _ ,” I began.

“She called you ‘Colonel’?”

“She enjoys the title far too much.” I looked at the letter in my hands again. “ _ Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam, how dare you shame this family even further by marrying yet another country chit and related that ridiculous, impolite and improper Elizabeth Bennet? _ Ooh, Country chit, now that isn’t very nice.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that one,” Catherine replied, and I chuckled as I tried to find my place in the letter again.

“ _ I refuse to refer to her as Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy because that would mean that I accept her as my niece, just as I will refuse to call your new bride Mrs. Fitzwilliam.  _ Come now, Aunt, her name is only legally Mrs. Catherine Fitzwilliam!” Catherine and I both chuckled lightly. “ _ I heard of her recent illness and I must declare that it is quite a shame that she didn’t- _ My word! I have the right mind to write this woman a letter as scathing and horrible as this one in my very hands!”

“Oh, Richard-”

“My love, please don’t allow the word of my scathing aunt chase you away. She is so set in her snobbish high societal ways and refuses to accept anything beneath that. You are not worthless or a country chit or anything else cruel this woman has to say.”

“I don’t base my opinions of you or the rest of your family on that miserable old goat, Richard. You should know this!”

“I do... Which is why I shall tear up this letter and throw it in the fire. I won’t even give her the satisfaction of knowing I have read it.” With that said, I stood and did exactly as I said, and then I returned to her side. “Get your rest, my love. We will be here a week at least, maybe even a fortnight, until that letter arrives. I do hope sincerely that they respond quickly.”

* * *

_ My Catherine fell asleep rather quickly this evening and is sleeping peacefully, although every so often as I write this, I can hear her wheezing in her sleep. I hope against all hope that the sanitorium writes back soon. I will send for our local physician tomorrow and have him tend to Catherine, for she needs all of the help she can get. _

_ Yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _

* * *

**{this letter arrived at Westfield on Saturday, 23 April 1814}**

_ Monday, 18 April 1814 _

_ Dear Colonel R. Fitzwilliam, _

_ We are pleased to have gotten your letter on this rainy day and can only assume that your wife, Mrs. Catherine Fitzwilliam, is faring well. We understand that you have been anxiously awaiting this letter for quite sometime and we are pleased to hear that you have moved your wife closer so that the journey may be less taxing. We are just as pleased to inform you that later this afternoon, a room will be opening up and we will be glad to accept your wife into it and work on her recovery together. You are very lucky, for not many have heard of us and there is yet to be a waiting list - after all, we have only been open since the summer of 1812. _

_ We wish you a swift journey and we very eagerly await the arrival of your wife. _

_ Yours, _

_ Dr. William McKelvey _

_ Saint Andrew’s Sanitorium for the Ill _

_ Dornoch, Highland, Scotland _

* * *

_ Saturday, 23 April 1814 _

_ To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas and Martha Bennet, _

_ The sanitorium has room for our Catherine! I received the letter earlier this afternoon, and no sooner could it have come! Our Catherine’s condition has been worsening since Monday and she is only getting worse. Our things are being packed now and we will leave early tomorrow morning, at dawn. I will be accompanying her and living with her at the sanitorium and I will write daily on her condition. Our Catherine will get better and I will make sure of it. _

_ Please keep her in your prayers, and I beg of you to pass on this information to the rest of our extended family. My mother knows and will be informing my side of the family. I thank you both for your continued support and I will have her home and safe before the end of the year. _

_ Your son, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _


	4. 24 April - 4 May 1814

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine and the Colonel arrive at the sanitorium and are greeted by Dr. McKinley. While there, they receive news that Mr. Bennet is ill, possibly with the consumption.

_ Sunday, 24 April 1814 _

_ To myself, _

_ We set off early this morning for Dornoch and my Catherine is so ill, she cannot sit up unassisted any longer. Her coughing has gotten worse and she has grown very pale. I read the other letters I received, one of them from Darcy saying that they had to dismiss a servant whom had been secretly harbouring a milder case of the consumption - they could not keep the young girl around Mrs. Darcy’s beautiful new daughter. I do wonder if, perhaps, this servant girl tended to my Catherine while she was ill at Pemberley and perhaps, it was her who passed on the illness to her. _

_ There were other papers in with the letter from the sanitorium, one stating that I, too, would be subject to examination if I am to stay with Catherine. I will submit to any examination if it means I may stay with my Catherine. I pray to whatever God watches us from above and hope for a swift recovery for my Catherine. _

_ Yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _

* * *

_ Thursday, 28 April 1814 _

_ To myself, _

_ It was this day that was initially planned for mine and my Catherine’s wedding, but we were sixteen days early. Nevermind that, we arrived at the sanitorium today and it is every bit of magnificent as it was described to me. It had once been a grand castle, but was refurbished and rebuilt to suit the needs of a sanitorium. They accept only sixteen patients at a time, per chamber, and my Catherine is very lucky to be one of them. Catherine was removed from the carriage on a stretcher and brought to her chamber to be examined... _

* * *

“Come, Colonel Fitzwilliam, for ye, too, must be examined,” said a doctor to me once I had entered the grand entrance hall. “Ah am Doctor William McKinley, Ah wrote to ye about your request.”

“Yes, I recall. It is a great pleasure to meet you,” I replied, and I followed him into a small room complete with a settee and a desk.

“T’is heah is my office. Whenev’r ye need me, Ah will always be heah,” said Dr. McKelvey in his thick Scottish brogue - it was so thick, I struggled understanding it. “Ah’ll need ye te remove yer shert, laddie.” I did as I was told and Dr. McKelvey placed his stethoscope on my chest.

“That’s a bit chilly, isn’t it?” I said, and Dr. McKinley chuckled.

“Ah need ye te breathe in n’ out fer me, laddie, real deap,” he replied, and I did. “And again.” I repeated as he moved the stethoscope. “Two more tiems, laddie.” I did as I was told, and he removed his stethoscope. “How long hev ye bee in close contact with Messes Fitzwilliam?”

“Almost a month. We were only married sixteen days ago,” I replied.

“Congratulations,” said Dr. McKelvey. “It seems that ye’ve got some crackles in yer breathin’, but yer in the right place fer tha’. It should come as no surprise that ye’ve got a touch of the consumption as well.”

“Not at all,” I replied. “I suspected it was the cause of a recent labour in my breathing.”

“Ye’ll be treated as well, although ye can expect te be cured o’ t’is relativeleh quickleh, compared te yer wife. Ah will examine ‘er meself next.”

“Thank you very much,” I replied, and he left me with final instructions on how to get to mine and Catherine’s chamber and said he would inform the nurses that I would be needing some medical attention as well. I arrived at the chamber and Catherine was already being examined, behind closed doors, by Dr. McKelvey and his nurses. I sat on the settee and waited until I could see her, only to be told that I would have to wait a couple of weeks after my own treatment before seeing her.

* * *

_ I am most certainly unhappy about not being able to see my Catherine, but I do not want to make her any more ill than she already is. After I finish this entry, I shall write to mine and Catherine’s relations announcing that we have arrived at the sanitorium safely. I am most certain that Mama will not be happy hearing that I, too, have a touch of consumption, but at least she will know that I am in the right place and will be treated quickly. I received my first treatments today and, if Dr. McKelvey’s techniques work, I will be cured of it in no time and so will my Catherine. _

_ Yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _

* * *

**{this letter arrived at the sanitorium on Monday, 9 May 1814}**

_ Wednesday, 4 May 1814 _

_ Dear Colonel Fitzwilliam, _

_ I beg of you not to alarm Kitty with this news, as she will blame herself, but Mr. Bennet has taken ill and Mr. Phylis believes it is with the consumption. He says he likely caught it from close contact with Catherine, but Mr. Bennet is not bitter. Now that all five of my daughters are married, I don’t worry anymore about them being homeless, but I do worry for myself. I have already written to my other daughters and I do hope that what little time I have left with Mr. Bennet is longer than I’ve been led to believe. _

_ He was very pleased to hear that you and Kitty have made it safely to Dornoch and your daily updates of our daughter are very much appreciated. We are glad to hear that you have responded well to the treatment you have received and we are both sorry to hear that you’ve received a bit of it as well. We trust that Kitty is in capable hands and we are certain that she will recover quickly now that she is there. Do keep writing daily of my daughter’s condition. _

_ Yours, _

_ Martha Bennet _


	5. 5 - 10 May 1814

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine regains consciousness briefly. The Colonel receives and reads the letter regarding Mr. Bennet's ill health and starts to write his journal entries to Catherine instead of himself.

_ Thursday, 5 May 1814 _

_ To myself, _

_ I have responded to the treatment I have received well and, according to Dr. McKelvey, I no longer have active disease. My Catherine, however, still has active disease and is showing very little signs of improving. I was permitted to see her at last and she looked quite a frightening sight. She was very pale and frail - she looked as if she were dying. She still does now, and perhaps she is. Perhaps bringing her here, far from home, was a terrible idea and it was all in vain. Before I saw her, I had been writing to her family about her condition based on Dr. McKelvey’s and the nurses’ words on her condition, but now that I have seen her myself, I am not sure how I can write to her family with hopes of good news to come. _

_ Dr. McKelvey says this is normal with many of his patients and that, in due time, she will begin to recover, but it will take time. I dream of being able to have a proper marriage to my Catherine. I dream of being able to hold her in our bed at Westfield with the curtains of the bed drawn so that we may lie in bed together for hours on end, both of us unclothed and embracing between lovemaking and resting. For so long, I have wanted to know what it would be like to make love to my Catherine, but at the same time, I fear what she would think of me unclothed. I am not as fit nor as thin as I had once been and certainly not quite as hairless as I used to be. I fear she will run in fear believing me to be some kind of overweight orangutan. I cannot help but wonder, though, if she has ever had similar thoughts about me... _

_ I should not be thinking of these things now, but I suppose that I cannot help it. I am a man with a thirst for the woman I love and I will wait for her to be ready, but I do declare that waiting may hurt quite a bit. For Catherine’s sake, I do hope she will recover soon, not to consummate our marriage but because I cannot stand seeing her so ill. _

_ Yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _

* * *

_ Sunday, 8 May 1814 _

_ To my dearest Catherine, _

_ I have decided to write my journal entries to you instead, as I sometimes feel I can be less open with myself than I am with you. You regained consciousness for the first time today since we arrived, but it was not for very long. I had been breaking my fast in my bedchamber when it happened, but after it had happened, one of the nurses, I believe her name is Miss Mackelby, informed me that you had called for me. I dropped my utensils and ran to your side, only to find you unconscious yet again. I sat on the edge of your bed and I stroked your dark brown hair, which looked like midnight against your pale white skin, and whispered to you, ‘I am here, my Catherine, and I always shall be’. You did not respond, but I knew in my heart that you had received my message. _

_ It has been a very long fortnight, my love, since we discovered your illness and brought you to the sanitorium. But progress has been made and that is evident by you regaining consciousness. Dr. McKelvey said that some patients - not all - rejected the treatment and never again regained consciousness, but you did and that is a start. I declare that I will not leave your side again, for I want to be there the next time you regain consciousness. I promise you that I will be right there beside you holding your hand so that I may be the first face your beautiful blue eyes fall on. I love you, my darling. _

_ All of my strength to you. _

_ Forever yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _

* * *

_ Tuesday, 10 May 1814 _

_ To my dearest Catherine, _

_ A letter arrived today from your mother bearing bad news - your father has taken ill with the consumption. I know not how he fares or if he is even still alive, and I most certainly won’t be telling you in person until you are much better. I know you, Catherine, and your dear mother is correct; you will blame yourself for his illness. His illness is not your fault, my love, and you did not choose to pass on the illness to him, just like how that servant girl at Pemberley did not choose to pass on the illness to you. If she had, I would have wrung her neck, but I know that that is not how illnesses work. _

_ I wrote back to your mother expressing our condolences and our prayers for his recovery, but you and I both know that the consumption kills all it touches, save for those in sanitoriums, occasionally. I fear that when we said our farewells was the last time we shall ever see Mr. Bennet and even Longbourn, and I am certain that Mrs. Bennet knows this as well. Where she will go, I haven’t a clue, but I cannot willingly accept her under my roof with you still so ill. She is no spring chicken and may possibly catch your illness. _

_ I wish your father the best, my love, and all of my strength will continue to go to you. Perhaps soon, you will gain consciousness - and your memories - for longer than a few short moments. _

_ Forever yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _


	6. 12 - 16 May 1814

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine regains consciousness and speaks to the Colonel, but she does not remember him. Later in the week, she has a nightmare about Wickham.

_ Thursday, 12 May 1814 _

_ To my dearest Catherine, _

_ I awoke to the to a rather dreary cloudy day, but the day’s events were not nearly as dreary. As I was having my tea and writing my daily letter to your mother and my own, I was summoned by Miss Mackelby to your side - she said you had awoken and were calling for me! I raced to your side and sat by you as you faded between consciousness and unconsciousness and dabbed at your forehead with a cool wet rag... _

* * *

I was brushing her hair out of her eyes when her eyelids fluttered opened to reveal her brilliant blue eyes, sunken into their sockets and red with exhaustion. She looked at me not with confusion, but with an expression of helplessness and I smiled warmly at her. “Hello, my Catherine,” I said to her quietly. She looked as if she wanted to reply to me and I waited patiently for her to gather the strength.

“Wh... wh...” she muttered quietly, speaking to me for the first time since our arrival.

“Take your time, my dearest one,” I said to her, taking her frail white hand.

“Wh... Who... are... y... you...” she muttered breathlessly, and I chuckled lightly - I had known that my Catherine might possibly suffer some mild amnesia.

“My silly girl, I am your husband,” I replied calmly.

“M... my hus...band...?” muttered my Catherine, and I nodded.

“How else do you suppose I got in here while you lie here in your bedclothes?” My sarcastic question elicited a small smile from my Catherine’s pale and colourless lips.

“I don’t... don’t quite remember... marrying you...”

“You’re ill, my love, and your mind is tired. I would not expect you to recall such a recent event.”

“Recent...?” I nodded. “Wh... What is your... name...”

“Richard, my dear, Richard Fitzwilliam. And you, darling love, are Mrs. Catherine Fitzwilliam.”

“Catherine Fitzwilliam...” She whispered it with a gentle smile. “I rather like the sound of that...”

“I am glad you do, for it is a name you shall bear for all of eternity.” She smiled at me before slipping back into unconsciousness. “Sleep, my love, and dream of good things. But not too good, as this slumber is not eternal.” I kissed her hand before allowing the nurses to tend to her.

* * *

_ Entering your bedchamber and seeing you in such a deathly state is taking its toll on me. The worst part of it that you make death look so beautiful. I know that you are in less danger of dying than before, but your deathly paleness is haunting me. I do hope that with the treatments, you start to regain your colour. _

_ I can’t help but think of Gertrude’s monologue describing Ophelia’s death in Hamlet... There, death looked so beautiful and yet, it still claimed that beautiful young woman in a muddy death. Though your garments are not ‘heavy with their drink’ and you are unlikely to drown in your bedsheets, I cannot drive the image from my mind. _

_ Forever Yours, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _

* * *

_ Monday, 16 May 1814 _

_ My Dearest Catherine, _

_ I believe I know now exactly what that wretched Wickham did to you. You had a nightmare tonight and awoke me with screams of terror and I came running, only to find you cowering in the corner of your room... _

* * *

“Catherine! Catherine, my dearest, what ever is the matter?” I shouted, running to my beloved, but she only screamed in fright.

“Away from me! Away!” she cried, sheer terror swimming in her eyes.

“Catherine, my dear-”

“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! You’re married to my sister, you should have more respect for her since you wanted her so badly, you forced her to elope with you!” Catherine shouted fiercely at me.

“Catherine, do you think that I am Mr. Wickham?” I asked, realising that by ‘elope’, she was referring to Mr. and Mrs. Wickham.

“Do you think me a fool? Out! Out with you!” Catherine shouted angrily at me, and that was when the nurses came in.

“Sir, it’s best if ye leave,” said Miss Campbell.

“But she’s my wife-”

“Sir, please,” said Miss Campbell again. “She doesn’t remember ye right now, it’s best if ye leave.” With a sigh, I took one look at my frightened and still pale Catherine and left her room.

* * *

_ You had said Wickham never had his way with you, but fear that he tried to ad he still hurt you. I will return to your side when you are well but I fear that my presence is, once again, disturbing you. I will write to your family telling them that you spoke full sentences, but I won’t tell them about this episode. _

_ Here’s to hoping you get well quicker, my love. _

_ Yours forever, _

_ Colonel R. Fitzwilliam _


	7. 28 May - 13 June

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of the birth of Jane and Mr. Bingley's child comes, along with news of the marriage of Georgiana and Mr. Fairfax. Bad news also comes and Catherine learns of her father's illness through a letter from her mother and is furious with the Colonel.

_Saturday, 28 May 1814_

_To my dearest Catherine,_

_I have not written to you in a fortnight simply because I felt no need to waste a page in this ever shrinking journal updating myself of your illness. You were still so unwell that last time I wrote in my journal to you and today, you are still unwell, but you are mostly conscious these days. I am grateful for the moments you have been given by whatever god sits above us controlling who lives and who dies and I look forward to the updates from the nurses and from Dr. McKinley._

_I have received several letters from your mother, your sisters and my own mother, as well as Georgiana in regards to her engagement to Mr. Fairfax. Evidently, Mr. Fairfax declared that he could wait no longer and on Sunday the twenty-third, he and Georgiana were happily married in Derbyshire and are currently on their honeymoon in Wales. In addition to that, Mrs. Bingley has given birth on Saturday the twenty-second to a very healthy little boy named Joshua. Mrs. Darcy and young Rosalind are doing well and Mrs. Darcy will soon be emerging back into society. Though I am certain it does not interest you much, Mrs. Wickham, too, is expecting a baby sometime early next year. I wrote to them with our congratulations._

_There is some bad news as well, though. I shall start with the news regarding my father. He is not deathly ill nor is he bedridden, but a doctor has discovered what he believes to be a cancer of some sort on his skin. Mama says that she does not know how much longer he can live with it but she seems hopeful that he will at least see Christmas, possibly the new year. And I have dreadful news of your father. He is gravely ill at home in Hertfordshire and will not be recovering. Time can only tell how many days he has left, or if he is even still alive. The letter from your mother was written on Friday last, on the twentieth, and it is now the twenty-eighth. I will pray that he dies peacefully, as recovery is very unlikely. Witnessing the consumption both on yourself and on men in battlefield hospitals, I have seen the horrors the consumption can put one through. Your mother says that she will travel to London and live with the Bingleys after your father’s passing._

_Though I am writing this to you, you are not reading it, and I will not allow you to read it. You are still so unwell and I cannot allow you to worry yourself over this news. I wish you a speedy recovery, my dearest love._

_Yours forever,_

_Colonel R. Fitzwilliam_

* * *

**{This letter arrived at the sanatorium on Saturday, 11 June 1814}**

_Friday, 3 June 1814_

_Dear Colonel,_

_Good day to you, cousin. I fear that I must bear some terrible news and it is your choice whether to disclose this information to my sister or not. Four days ago, I received an urgent letter from Mama asking me to come home and so I did, only to discover that Papa was in a terrible state. My husband joined me the following day and so did Mary and my brother, Edward, and we all sat by his bedside until he passed on the first of the month._

_Today, we buried him and it rained so hard and for so long. It was difficult seeing Mama, whom I am used to seeing dressed in bright cheerful colours, dressed head to toe in black, and it was even more difficult to see my father, whom I have been close to for so long, lowered into his final resting place. He did die peacefully, but his breathing was very laboured; it stopped around a quarter past two in the morning, according to my husband. Lydia did not come, but I am certain it is because Newcastle is so far from home and she has yet to receive Mama’s plea for her to come, and Jane did not come because she has so recently given birth - she did bear a son, Joshua, if Catherine asks._

_I do hope that my sister is well. If you do choose to tell her, I beg you to remind her that Papa’s illness was no fault of hers. Do keep me informed of her condition, as I will be at Longbourn with Mama until Mr. Collins has claimed his inheritance, and then I will ride with Mama to London to stay with Jane._

_Hope you are well._

_Yours,_

_Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy_

* * *

_Saturday, 11 June 1814_

_Dearest cousin,_

_I am so dreadfully sorry for your loss. You must be devastated, as I had heard from Catherine how close yourself and Mr. Bennet were. I apologise for such a late response, but I am sure you understand the distance. I have not told Catherine yet and and likely will not until she is better, but I know her spirit and her temper and she will likely be angry with me for not telling her sooner._

_She is doing well and is slowly returning to a normal routine in regards to sleep and consciousness. She still has trouble with her breathing but Dr. McKinley believes that she will always have trouble breathing and has advised loose corsets for the future. I do hope that you and my dear niece are faring well, Darcy has written to me telling of her beauty and I have been lead to believe that she is the most beautiful little girl in all of Derbyshire._

_Do not be disheartened by the loss of your father, dearest cousin and sister of mine. From what Catherine has told me of him, he would not want you to mourn his loss, but instead be happy for his fortune of being beyond pain and suffering. When Catherine is well enough to be out of doors, I will bring her to visit her father._

_Hope you are well._

_Yours,_

_Colonel R. Fitzwilliam_

* * *

_Monday, 13 June 1814_

_My dearest Catherine,_

_I beg of you not to stay angry at me for long. Today, you decided to venture out of your bedchamber on your own and into the main room of our quarters. Though I was thrilled to see you well enough to do so, I was surprised to see you turn to me with a look of distress..._

* * *

I had decided to go to town to see if I could find a souvenir for my mother, as she has many souvenirs from my travels and I promised her when I was a young private that I would bring her a souvenir from every place I visit. I had settled on a porcelain doll dressed in a woman’s highland costume and had it boxed up to be brought home to Clitheroe and as I entered our quarters, I saw Catherine in her nightgown standing beside the fireplace hunched over something. She looked beautiful, the way her brown hair flowed down her back like a chocolate waterfall, and I smiled as I closed the door behind me.

“Catherine, my darling,” I said cheerfully, and she turned to face me. That was when I saw that she was distressed, and I lost my smile. “Darling, are you well?”

“How dare you keep this from me,” she muttered.

“What is it, my dearest?”

“My father died and you kept it from me? I should have been there-”

“Catherine, you were barely consciousness. You only regained it properly the day after he died. It would have distressed you-”

“He died a fortnight ago,” Catherine said seriously, cutting me off.

“I only received the letter on Saturday.” She paused for a moment, looking back at the letter.

“It’s my fault... I’m the one that made him ill. He caught that illness from me.”

“And you caught that illness from someone else, Catherine. He never blamed you for his catching ill.”

“Either way, you still kept this from me. I should have known I’d have killed one member of my family...”

“Catherine-”

“Leave me be! Just leave me be, please!” She dropped the letter, lifted the hem of her nightdress and bolted into her bedchamber, slamming the door behind her. I let out a sigh and picked up the letter, understanding completely how she felt. Surely, I would have felt the same way had I been the one suffering from the consumption and she had been in my place then I am sure I would be furious with her for not disclosing my father’s death to me.

* * *

_Lord, no matter how sick you get, that fierceness in you will never die out, and that is the part of you that I fell in love with._

_Yours forever,_

_Colonel R. Fitzwilliam_


End file.
